


The Ghost of You

by Pen_And_Dagger



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: I refuse to type Oma, Kiibo not Keebo, M/M, ghost au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 01:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12924672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pen_And_Dagger/pseuds/Pen_And_Dagger
Summary: Hope's Peak Academy finally enrolls its first class since its rebuilding. Kokichi Ouma is one of these students, recognized as the Ultimate Supreme Leader. His life is simple aside from the natural consequences of his talent until the morning he chose to pick up an abandoned necklace.Enter the new kid, Rantaro Amami. Right away it's clear that something is strange other than his fashion sense. Ouma is the only one who can see him.





	1. The New Kid

It was a cool autumn morning, and Ouma has a bad case of the Fridays. His head was in space, and it was obvious he wouldn’t be focusing at all. He made his way to school, in no rush to get there. Better to make a “grand entrance” if he was late regardless. A dumpster near the school caught his eye, making him stop. No, it was more like something near the dumpster grabbed his attention. 

Approaching, he unearthed a half-buried necklace. It was a simple accessory, being little more than a thin chain with a crystal dangling from it. It seemed to be long since abandoned or at the very least something that barely missed being thrown out, so he decided to keep it. He fastened it around his neck and tucked it under his signature checkered scarf before continuing on his way. 

At the gate, he looked up to the school building itself. Hope’s Peak was huge, but rather empty since there was only one class inhabiting it so far. The Tragedy was over for almost two years now. He knew this was the school where it all began, but to be rebuilt and reopened so fast was a surprise given its history. Not that he minded of course. An evil supreme leader such as himself belonged at a place stained with such bloody history. 

He walked almost casually through the halls to his class, sliding the door open and grinning. “Don’t worry yourselves anymore, I’m here now!” he cheered. When Maki’s attitude seemed to darken he snickered under his breath. He anticipated that reaction, and it never failed to entertain him. However, if he didn't want to get strangled again he'd have to be careful. He didn't have a point to prove by triggering that response so far, so he took his seat without further incident. 

As expected, he paid almost no attention during class. His attention was caught by someone standing in the back corner. He was tall and even from this distince Ouma could tell he had multiple piercings. He was just standing there watching the class go on with the look of an outsider looking in. The supreme leader couldn’t help but wonder why the teacher wasn’t telling him to take a seat. No one else seemed to be paying attention to him either. Maybe he was here to do some official observation and wasn’t supposed to be acknowledged?

No, he was wearing some kind of student’s uniform, looking like some old style he’d seen that one time he snuck into the headmaster’s office. Was he a new kid with outdated fashion sense? He was very pretty… Ouma scolded himself for that sudden tangent and turned his focus back to the front of the room. He didn’t read the board. He just stared at a fixed point somewhere in the middle. Don’t look in the corner. Don’t think about the pretty boy in the corner. You can talk to him later. 

First thing’s first, what’s his name? When class ended he shot up and made a beeline for the unsuspecting detective. “Saihara-chan!” he called loudly hanging onto his arm like a clingy little kid. He heard a light sigh before Saihara looked down at him. “What is it Ouma-kun..?” What an exasperated tone!

Satisfied by the attention he looked up and grinned in triumph before getting down to business. “Who’s the new guy?” he questioned, pointing over to the corner. The detective followed his finger and raised an eyebrow. “Ouma-kun are you feeling okay? There’s no one there…” he answered carefully. He looked as if he was worried about the supreme leader's mental state more than anything else.

No one there? That’s definitely not what he was expecting to hear. Did he leave already? Ouma turned to the corner to look again. No, he hadn’t left yet. He was still standing there, leaning on the wall lightly as if not expecting any notice. “But he’s right there…” he mumbled, but Saihara was already leaving. He decided to wait until everyone left before approaching the boy no one else seemed to notice.

For once he didn’t invade the stranger’s personal space right away since he had no idea whether or not he really was seeing things. “Hey! Who are you?” he said with unexpected bluntness. The stranger didn’t pay attention to Ouma as if deciding it wasn’t him being addressed. Ouma frowned, not liking being ignored. “Hey, corner man! I’m talking to you y’know!” he huffed.

Finally, he got a response in an unexpected look of shock. “Oh… You can see me?” he questioned slowly. 

Even Ouma was caught off guard by that remark.


	2. Your Friendly Neighborhood Haunting

Ouma stared at the male before him for a long moment before deciding to speak once again. “Of course I can see you. Why wouldn’t I? You’re not very sneaky you know!” he huffed, pouting like a child. How dare this stupid, mysterious, pretty- stop it. Anyway, how dare this guy act like he’s some oblivious kid? Rude!

The strange boy seemed relieved but also disappointed. “The thing is, most people can’t see me. Actually, you’re the first person who’s seen me, or at least acknowledged that they did. Tell me, are you the Ultimate Medium or something?” he questioned. Medium? He was in no way some occult junkie!

“Medium? Nope! I’m Kokichi Ouma, the Ultimate Supreme Leader!” Ouma countered, his mood mildly deflated by the stranger’s casual nod. “Okay, Ouma. I guess it won’t hurt to introduce myself too… my name is Rantaro Amami. I’m sure I had a talent, but I don’t remember. I promise I’m not a bad guy. I don’t think I was at least…”

Ouma frowned. “Okay, what’s up? Why are you talking about yourself in past tense? Are you a ghost or something like that?” 

Amami sighed. “Ah, you see… That’s exactly it. I don’t understand how you’re able to see me, but I appreciate the company.” Ouma’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “You’re a ghost? How old are you? Oh! How’d you kick the bucket? Can you walk through walls? Possess people? I’ve never been friends with a ghost! Can I touch you?” 

The ghost seemed startled by the sudden stream of questions. “Hey, one thing at a time. I don’t remember how I got this way… I try to avoid messing with people, so I’m not totally sure what I can do in that respect… Feel free to try if you want.”

With that, Ouma grinned in delight and reached out to prod Amami with a finger, half expecting to go right through. Rather, the ghost’s body stopped his finger, and it was warmer than he expected it to be. “Woah… You’re warm… I thought ghosts would be cold! That’s weird!” he chirped. “But you seriously don’t know how you died? That’s boring…”

Amami frowned. “Sorry to disappoint.” he sighed. He leaned back against the wall. “I’m curious. I’ve been in this room rather frequently, but this is the first time you’ve acknowledged me. What’s different today?” he questioned. 

Ouma tilted his head. “Huh? I knew you were here all along! You’ve just been super boring until now, so I didn’t feel like talking!” he said before noticing the time and heading to the door to make his way home. Before he stepped out into the hall he turned back and smiled. “Maybe that was a lie, who knows? See you Amami-chan!”

Just like that, he bounced out into the hall, leaving behind the confused yet amused ghost. Undoubtedly it’s safe to say this would be an interesting companionship. 

On the way home, Ouma reached up to touch the necklace’s crystal, thinking. Was this the reason he could suddenly see ghosts? Actually, it seemed to be only one ghost. Weird, unless other ghosts were hiding somewhere that happened not to be here. No, that wasn’t it; it couldn’t be. That would be way too convenient!

That leads back to the big question of the day. What’s so special about this necklace, and why did it allow him to see the ghost boy he couldn’t until today? He’d look into this on his own as long as he could. His classmates thought he was crazy enough without a paranormal investigation contributing to it. 

He can start tomorrow. Weekends were good for this kind of thing. 

Probably.


	3. Saturday Morning Mysteries

Ouma woke up early the next morning, his mind abuzz with thoughts of his important mission. He grabbed the necklace from his nightstand and looked at it closely, looking for any inscriptions or signs of strange components. Seeing nothing of the sort he sighed and opened it to put it back on. 

He froze seeing something interesting on the part holding the crystal. It was small and a bit worn out, but to an extent, it was still legible. It was a simple “R.A.” etched into the metal. R.A.? The only one he could think of with those initials was the ghost himself. It seemed too convenient for the necklace to magically be his, but at the same time, it would explain why he could see Amami while wearing it. 

Deciding he’d ask about it next time he got the chance, he clasped it back around his neck and put his scarf on over it. Strange, he had the necklace only about twenty-four hours, yet putting it on already felt like a part of some kind of routine. Maybe deep down he was hoping the ghost boy would show up once it was on securely? No, he was the Ultimate Supreme Leader! He couldn’t get attached to someone who’s already kicked the bucket!

Despite this, he made his way over to the large whiteboard on his bedroom wall, deciding it would be the best place to keep track of everything that came up from his investigating. He wasn’t attached to the ghost! He was just curious about his mysterious backstory, honest! Maybe honesty wasn’t the thing to expect from Ouma, but he still wouldn’t say he was already attached. 

The small dictator’s mind whirred with grand ideas of what could’ve happened to Amami. Maybe he was an heir to a family business loathed by the mafia! Oh! Maybe he was a defeated Remnant of Despair! He’d always heard that a lot of despairing people were killed in the Tragedy up until it ended, so it wasn’t totally impossible. On the flip side, maybe he was a valiant defender of hope cut down in the line of duty!

Then again there were the more mundane options like falling out the window or getting hit by a bus, but those seemed way too average for someone so carefree yet so deep. He still wrote down the possibility, knowing better than to ignore the chance in favor of his wild fantasies. 

The uniform still bothered him. It was definitely a style used before the Tragedy, but how long before? What talent did he have if he attended Hope’s Peak in the past? Now that he thought about it, there was also that Reserve Course for students without talent. Amami only said he thought he had a talent after all. With no memory, enough time haunting a school for the talented would make anyone think they had talent whether they did or not. 

He’d have to look into what old uniforms looked like for both courses. 

Ouma soon realized he wasn’t even scratching the surface of the mystery. He frowned, realizing that without Amami there to “interrogate” about what he did and didn’t remember, he couldn’t get much further. Then again, he could go back to the school and look for him. No, that would make him seem clingy. Again, he’s not attached to Amami, only curious. So very curious… He wanted to know the truth, even if it takes time travel to do it!

Time travel… Man, it would be cool if he could do that! Unfortunately, he can’t do that. He didn’t have some fancy machine to carry him around time and space for his entertainment. No way to look into the past. Or was there..?

The archives! Maybe there was information that survived the Tragedy about former students! It’s a bit of a long shot, but for the sake of learning more maybe it’s worth a try. If Amami really was a former Hope’s Peak student, there would’ve been records about him, whether it survived or not. 

Ouma grabbed his lock picking tools and a spare flash drive or two, shoving them in his pockets before heading outside and towards Hope’s Peak.

Turns out Saturday’s a school day after all.


	4. School Invasion

Ouma calmly made his way down the road towards Hope’s Peak. He felt nothing about breaking into to the most prestigious school in the country, if not the world, to dig up potentially nonexistent information about a dead student he met only yesterday. They wouldn’t risk kicking someone out so early into the first class of the new school. Besides, the headmaster was too compassionate to take the hard stance right off the bat. 

It was almost too easy in his eyes. 

They were foolish enough to leave the gate unlocked for him to get onto school grounds without issue. To be fair, the area wasn’t populated enough yet for them to be too worried about anyone trying to break in. Besides, what would be worth taking? A chair? 

It was just as simple to get into the main building itself, the hallways as deserted as he expected them to be. Now comes the hard part. Ouma genuinely didn’t know where the archives were. In hindsight figuring that out before sneaking in was probably a good idea, but what’s fun about life without a little risk?

No use standing around in the entryway. He started to walk and search for a clue about the archive’s whereabouts. He had to be careful if he didn’t want whatever security that was around today to spot him and kick him out. Even still, he could easily lie his way to safety. What would be his default line? Forgot something in class or meeting for a project? The lie had to be innocent before he got in too deep. 

Down the hall, he saw Amami wandering almost aimlessly. Never was he more relieved to be able to see ghosts. Quickly he walked to the ghost and smiled. “Amami-chan!” he chirped in greeting. 

Amami turned to look at him. “Hm? Ouma, it’s the weekend… What are you doing here?” he questioned in confusion. Ouma pouted. “My beloved Amami-chan doesn’t want to see me?” he said before unleashing crocodile tears.

The ghost jumped slightly. “No! That’s not what I meant!” he protested quickly, sighing as Ouma stopped crying immediately. “I know!” the supreme leader said with a cheeky grin. “Anyway, I’m looking for the archives. You know where they are?”

Amami thought for a second before nodding. “Of course. I’ve been here long enough to know the school like the back of my hand.” he answered. Without being asked he turned and walked off to lead the way to the archives. Ouma grinned and walked with him as they descended into the belly of the school. 

“Hey, Amami-chan? Have you tried to look at the archives before?” 

The taller male frowned thoughtfully. “No… I didn’t think there would be anything for me to find… I’ve been more focused on being able to exit the school. I’m not sure why I can’t…” he mused. Ouma looked up in confusion. “Huh? You can’t leave the school? That sounds like a nightmare.” he commented with a hint of a joke in his tone. “I can’t leave, but I guess I could be restricted to worse places.” Amami said with a casual shrug. 

After a few more minutes of walking, they reached an unmarked door. Ouma looked at Amami. “This is it?” he questioned for verification. Amami nodded a little. “Yes. It’s usually locked, so I don’t see how you’ll...What are you doing?” he responded, switching sentences halfway seeing Ouma poking at the doorknob with a few pins.

Ouma hummed. “Simple. I’m picking the lock.” he responded calmly before hearing the satisfying click. He pushed the door open and walked inside, looking around at the computers and file cabinets. Of course, he started with the computer, clicking and typing away to look for information on the dead boy looking over his shoulder.

Amami frowned in confusion. “Why are you searching for my records? I would think someone with access to all of the school’s data would search for answer keys or something like that… Something to get ahead. I’m pretty sure my records were lost for a long time…” he said in confusion. 

Ouma huffed. “You wanna know what happened, don’t you? Well so do I!” he said simply. He then perked up noticing a file that matched what he was looking for. “There we go… Let’s see who you were…” he mused, clicking it open. 

“Hey...How long were you a ghost?”

Amami frowned. “I’d say between four and five years… Why?”

Ouma sighed. “Trying to fill the unbelievable amount of blanks in here.”


	5. Hard Drive

Amami leaned over Ouma’s shoulder to look at the screen in front of them. “Oh, there’s a surviving file after all…” he mumbled softly, as if he were talking to himself. Ouma hummed. “Well, Hope’s Peak always had some really good record keeping. The perks of teaching the world’s best, yeah?” he commented. “Anyway, there’s not much going on in this thing…” 

It’s true. The file was not even half a page with a few lines about the male in question below an official school photo. Pretty skimpy for such a prestigious school. Maybe the Tragedy really did a number on the records they recovered. This was better than nothing at least, should it give the information he was looking for.

_  
Rantaro Amami_

_Ultimate Adventurer_

_Class: 79-A_

_Birthday: October 10_

_Dat-_

_FURTHER DATA DAMAGED BEYOND CREDIBLE LEGIBILITY  
_

Ouma groaned in frustration. What was the next line? It could’ve been a huge clue! For all he knew the school might’ve acknowledged his death in the official records! If they did, that would be huge, knowing the school’s past of hiding the nature of student deaths while enrolled. He shoved a flash drive into the computer and put a copy on it before continuing to browse the files. At least he had a jumping off point.

He stopped again seeing a “List of Protected Students”. Protected students? What did that mean in relation to the school? 

He moved a copy to the flash drive without opening it. He had to make sure he had a copy just in case he had to leave in a hurry. He couldn’t stay here forever or security might find him. He copied an extra file or two about the class 79-A and the few above it to figure out what was going on in the school when Amami was said to be a student. 

Ouma’s search moved on to information about the Tragedy. Who knows, Amami could’ve easily been involved. He frowned not seeing much information about it, but he copied over whatever he could find. There was no harm in a little extra reading, right? The staff was so openly secretive about the Tragedy, he could totally use this information to get some “extra credit”. Hey, he was a supreme leader of evil, what did you expect?

He took out the flash drive, pocketed it again and walked out of the archive room. He was mildly satisfied with his findings and would go over it when he was at home and had more time to look it over. He could tell Amami was still with him, though he would’ve thought the ghost would want to stay in the archives to look at the information about himself. Oh well, he probably had his reasons not to.

When he got to the front door Amami slowed to a stop. Ouma almost questioned what he was doing but then remembered that the ghost was confined to the school. He wondered what would have to happen to allow him to come out of the school and travel to where he wants to. Speaking of which, if Amami could go anywhere in the world, where would he go?

Well, he was at some point an adventurer, so if he could go anywhere, he’d probably go everywhere. For a moment Ouma entertained the idea of tagging along with him. It was only for the purpose of gaining opportunities for his secret organization, nothing else! Connections across the globe would be perfect to really get his organization to have a strong grip on the world. 

He grinned looking back at the ghost. “See you later Amami-chan!” he said cheerfully. He turned on his heel and walked home quickly, the flash drive in his pocket practically burning with unspoken urgency.

Who said he’s not a detective?


	6. Reading Exercise

Ouma waited until the next day to look over the files he took from the archives. He had to at least look like he did his homework. While he really could give any excuse in existence as to why it wasn’t done, talking about investigating a ghost’s circumstances wasn’t too high on his to-do list. In all honesty, it was the risk that someone would actually believe him that worried him. Figuring out Amami’s life and death was his job alone! He didn’t need anyone else butting into his business. 

When he finally did get to look at the files, he plopped on the bed with his laptop, leaning casually on his “pillow mountain”. His horse head mask was for the time being dumped unceremoniously on the floor to make room for the pillows, but he’d be sure to pick it up once he was done and make up for the poor treatment. 

First, he opened the list of protected students. It looked like a simple place to start. He scanned the names on the list. “Let’s see...Class 78 huh? Why is no one else on here..?” he muttered before seeing a few names that caught his attention. “Enoshima? Why the hell would they want to protect _her_ of all people? And isn’t that the headmaster? Interesting…” 

On impulse he reopened Amami’s profile, staring at the picture for a long time. He really was pretty… Something deep down hoped his death was peaceful, as if his heart reached back in time hoping that he got the most comfortable death possible. Not that death was all that pleasant, but as long as it wasn’t super painful that was enough for him. 

Adventurer… What could've happened to an adventurer..? Truthfully anything could happen with a talent like that. Fell off a cliff, sacrificed in an ancient ritual by some obscure cult, eaten by lions, the possibilities were endless. How would he go about narrowing down these endless possibilities?

Ouma scanned the profile over and over, putting details he found out on his own in a separate document. Tall, toned but not totally muscular, calm and collected yet mysterious with a hint of knowing more than it seems. Likely a frequent traveler. Amami seemed like he was pretty easy to get along with, so not a lot of people would want him dead most likely. 

On to his old class roster. The class was a typical sixteen, no one particularly standing out to him. He scanned it over a few times to find something worth stopping on. One name was moderately familiar, but off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of where he knew it from. He put it on the other document with a note to investigate further at a later point. 

He scanned through his notes, trying to piece everything together as much as he could. The headmaster’s class, how did it fit with Amami’s? Amami’s talent, how did it contribute to his death, if at all? That familiar name, who was it and how did it fit into all of this?

The laptop was growing warm in his lap from prolonged use. It wasn’t burning, rather it was a comforting warmth as if someone light was sitting in his lap. He straightened his legs out, letting the laptop be more exposed to the open air in an attempt to cool it down. A small yawn escaped, all this thinking wearing him out.

Ouma leaned further back into his mountain of pillows to relax, but after a mere five minutes he drifted off to sleep.


	7. Play With Us Big Brother!

I was in a bedroom I didn’t recognize. There were maps on the walls and natural colors everywhere. I didn’t get much chance to take in the surroundings before various voices broke my train of thought. 

“Come on, play with me!"

“You promised you’d do my nails today!”

“Hey, you said you’d do mine first!”

An absolute ruckus broke out as maybe a dozen little girls invaded the room, and shortly after that my personal space. I looked at all of them. They looked so excited, so eager for my attention. I don’t know these children, I’m sure I don’t. When I opened my mouth, what came out made it sound like I did.

“Girls, relax… One at a time, I’ll play with all of you…”

I sounded like I was used to this. Did I know these children? Or is something else happening that I haven’t figured out yet? I’ll figure it out later. I went with the little girls, my feet moving carefully to keep from stepping on any of them. Why are they so small? They’re definitely not toddlers or anything like that. So many people are taller than me, how are these girls so much smaller? 

I sat down in a different bedroom that I guess I was supposed to recognize. It was pink. It was very, very pink. The little table was covered in bottles of nail polish, everywhere from matte to glitter. The girls sat around the table, waiting anxiously for their turn. 

One girl in particular turned out to be quite a handful. 

“Stop fidgeting… It’ll smudge…”

She looked up with big, bright, innocent green eyes. “Sorry big brother…”

Big brother? Who exactly am I right now? I don’t have siblings. Even if I did, I wouldn’t have anywhere near this many! How long did it take for all these kids come to be? Why am I thinking about that this is just a dream this is probably just a bunch of small children spawned in my mind to occupy me.

Either way, it was a bit unsettling how mundane and realistic this dream was. It felt as if I was living someone else’s life, at least for a moment. I don’t get it. Even if this was a dream, why would I dream in someone else’s shoes? This definitely isn’t some kind of dream of an ideal life.

Well, maybe being a little taller would be nice. I’ll admit that much and nothing more. 

To be honest I would’ve been intrigued if I could continue to talk to Amami-chan after school through dreams. No, that would be REALLY COOL. How many people could say that they talk to dead people in their sleep? No one that’s how many! 

Aside from that, we could bounce ideas off of each other about his history. Productivity would go way up if we could talk outside of school. I’m not spending overnights at school for a dead guy, however pretty he is- STOP THAT.

Refocusing on the dream before me, I was braiding one of the girls’ hair while they waited for their nails to dry. Someone was singing a song about princesses, but it didn’t appear to distract me from my “work”. I looked to my hands to see if I could figure out more about what I looked like. 

Why am I braiding hair with so much jewelry on? That doesn’t seem like a good idea, but then again in this dream, I must be experienced with this kind of thing. What purpose does this dream serve to begin with? I’m braiding little girls’ hair and doing nails, not taking over the world or answering any questions! 

Oh yeah, the rings. If I’m wearing that much jewelry to do mundane tasks I must be super powerful by now! Maybe I did take over the world and I’m just being nice to the people's’ children. Then again they called me “big brother”... Great, back to square one. 

Before my eyes, the scene of giggling little girls and pink walls morphed into something different. Something much, much worse. 

There was overturned furniture and fire everywhere. From my perspective, I could place myself in the corner by the windows. I looked around for something. An escape route? A place to hide? Something to fight with? I can’t be sure. Whatever it was, I seemed really desperate to find it fast.

From the corner of my eye, I saw what seemed to be a slightly burned hand clawing at the floor. Someone was trying to escape something. From my view, I could only assume they were stuck and didn't want to get burned alive. Not that I blame them. I reached for the hand. I don’t know why I did, whoever it was was probably a goner anyway. Our hands were mere inches from meeting and then…

I woke up. What on earth was that?


	8. Thinking Time

Ouma opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long time. His mind reeled, trying to figure out what that dream was supposed to mean. He was vaguely aware of the laptop almost burning in his lap and he looked at it, scolding it for its “betrayal” with his eyes. His eyes met those of Amami’s picture and he felt a twinge of guilt. He wasn’t upset at Amami, just the infernal device on his lap. 

He plugged the laptop in to charge on the floor, sitting and typing his dream into a separate document. It was unlike any other dream he’s had, so there was some sliver of belief that it could be important. The rest of his mind doubted that it was possible, but it was worth taking note of just in case. A good supreme leader could never be too prepared, especially in as unprecedented a situation as this.

He thought about the girls in the dream. There was undoubtedly a mild resemblance to Amami himself, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it. There was the issue of the brain usually able to remember a face, so perhaps his mind put Amami’s face on a little girl and morphed it to fit with the rest of the body. Why that would happen he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t think of any other reason why the resemblance would be so clear. 

He closed the laptop after saving his work and moved to his desk. He had to get his homework done or else he’d get in trouble again. As much as having to stay behind a little would be a good excuse to hang out with Amami and discuss things, he didn’t want it to be for such a petty reason as missing homework again. Wait, he could stay back as much as he wanted anyway as long as he wasn’t there in the middle of the night. 

He made quick work of his homework and stuffed it in his backpack. Looking at the time, he realized he slept through the night. To an extent, he could say he was still on schedule, whether it was on purpose or not. Ouma felt a slight surge of pride at the realization. See? Even without trying he could get away with what he had to do. What did he have to worry about in the ghost investigation? He’d succeed, it was just a matter of time.

Amami was in good hands whether he knew it or not. Trust me, he’d know soon enough. 

Ouma paused for a moment noticing that the laptop wasn’t the only thing that had gotten warm while he was asleep. He took off the necklace and held it in his hand, the crystal warm in his palm as of it had a life of its own. At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

A realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He didn’t know the first thing about ghosts besides what Amami’s told him. At the same time, Amami doesn’t seem to know much about ghosts either, and he’s been a ghost for at least a few years. Then again there was the chance that Amami’s sense of time was off and it was way more or way less than a few years. Nothing in the information he had could guarantee an exact time that Amami died. No one but Amami himself could do that now. The problem is he clearly doesn’t remember how not to mention when. 

Ouma paced back and forth for a few minutes, trying to think of how to get more information. He’d ask Himiko, but she’d complain about low MP. Also Tenko would probably throw him into next week. That in mind, who was left he could ask? His mind wandered to someone else, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask him. His questioning would be...invasive at the least, at least he thought that would be the case. 

He thought for a second. He could just go into Kiyo’s lab and get the information without talking to him at all. A devious grin crept its way onto his face. Kiyo would be so mad if he found out that he was in his lab, but he didn’t care. He’d just take what he needed and go. 

He picked up his bag and headed out the door. He had some trespassing to do one more time.


	9. A Brand New Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Amami reflects on his afterlife and wonders about the true nature of his new friend

Amami had been dead for years. He knew this to be true, and for the most part, he accepted this fact. It wasn’t exactly like he could do anything about it. However, the place he haunted confused him to an extent. He wasn’t sure why he had to haunt his old school of all places. Through pure logic alone he could think of places he would have a greater emotional attachment. 

However, he didn’t exactly mind his circumstances. There was plenty of company for a while, though most of them moved on pretty quickly and left him alone. At one point a strange event started with one group of sixteen, and little by little some of them joined him. Naturally, they didn’t pay him much mind since they were mutual strangers. It was almost funny how they moved on once the doors to the school opened. The door opened and just like that, they were elsewhere. 

Not him. He stayed and watched everything unfold in the school. 

He watched older people in suits scour the area looking for someone. He saw people crawl inside to hide from the elements. He even got the privilege of watching as the school was repaired. His excitement when he recognized the six from that odd game was almost tangible, but it quickly succumbed to the fact that he still couldn’t be seen. 

Amami swelled with pride watching the first of the opening ceremonies once the school opened. Still, time continued to pass and no one acknowledged his presence. By now he was used to the solitude, but he still held onto some hope that someone would be able to talk to him one day. Classes came and went and he was stuck in the loop of trying to greet everyone to be met with nothing. 

Until that day.

He had merely been lounging in the corner watching the class go on in front of him. After so long of being trapped in a school, it became sort of a hobby to watch the living students learn. At the end of the day, he became vaguely aware of one student pointing him out to a confused and oblivious classmate. He didn’t pay any attention to it, figuring he was referring to someone else. When the class emptied, the student actually addressed him directly. 

In denial, Amami initially neglected to respond. 

“Hey, corner man! I’m talking to you y’know!”

He couldn’t stop his shock from taking over his expression. “Oh… You can see me?”

That began a very strange yet interesting secret companionship. The ghost almost decided it was a fluke. There’s no way it could be forever. No, tomorrow he would be invisible and forgotten again. 

But he wasn’t. 

Day after day Kokichi Ouma would talk to him through words or acknowledging gestures. He felt like he really had a friend for the first time in his lonely afterlife. 

Every time they spoke, Ouma would ask about him. About his life, about his death, about his confinement to Hope’s Peak Academy, the works. However, he noticed there was a distinct imbalance in information. Amami would offer as much information as he could remember, but Ouma wouldn’t volunteer any information and would dance around the questions he would ask. 

He wanted to know what he was so reluctant to say. 

It was only fair, right?


	10. Afterlife Investigation

Once upon a time he’d find unusual and occasionally unorthodox methods to find out the information he wanted. However, his current situation called for a more traditional route. That’s how Rantaro Amami ended up phasing through the archive door, intent on locating Ouma’s file to figure out what his deal is. He stared at the computer for a long time. He had never tried to use it before, and he wasn’t sure that he would be able to use it. 

The ghost slowly gathered his nerve and reached out for the computer, experimentally pressing a button on the keyboard. If he had to confess, he’d have to say that he was entirely surprised that the computer whirred to life when it did. However, he’d take every small victory he could get. Slowly he pulled out the chair and sat down, his fingers flying across the keys as he searched for his mark. 

_  
Kokichi Ouma_

_Ultimate Supreme Leader_

_Class: 1-A_

_Birthday: June 21_

_Scouting Data: Appears to lead a band of hooligans, full membership numbers undetermined. Claims to lead 10,000 but not confirmed. Proficient liar, skilled at masking the truth in a confusing web of deception. Skilled in lockpicking and manipulation.  
_

Amami rubbed his eyes as the words started blending together. How long has it been since he’d looked at a computer screen for this long? He leaned back and sighed. “I guess that’s enough of that for now…” he muttered, though even if there were passing security guards no one would be able to hear him. Brief thoughts about how security would react to the chair moving on its own and the computer running when they check security footage crossed his mind, though quickly dissipated. 

Instead, he shut the computer off and pushed the chair back in. Something upstairs was nagging him, consuming his attention. Suddenly intent on figuring out the source of the disturbance he phased back through the door and walked upstairs as a living student would. Admittedly he didn’t enjoy phasing through things all that much. It was too much of a reminder that he wasn’t actually alive. 

Doors, however, were the only exception. Aside from the odd feeling of solid objects passing through him, if he closed his eyes he could pretend the door was ajar. When he located the room in question, his mind whirred with increased confusion. To his knowledge, the room had no purpose so far, so what could be on the other side of the door? Another ghost? Perhaps a potentially hazardous situation that he’d have to find a way to warn the living occupants about?

Internally pocketing his thoughts, he closed his eyes and phased through the door. 

When he opened his eyes again, he was rather confused by the scene before him. It was just a table with two occupants, an extra seat, and an excessive amount of candles. Upon closer inspection, the navy tablecloth had a strange yet not all that unfamiliar symbol stitched into it. Where has he seen it before? No matter, there were more things to investigate. 

He immediately recognized Ouma on one side of the table and vaguely recognized the other as one of his classmates. However, he was much less unsettling in appearance when wearing the same uniform as the rest of the students. In this attire, he looked like an old-time soldier who happened to have a knack for BDSM. Then again, he didn’t feel right judging someone else’s interests. 

Amami looked at the other student for a few seconds, trying to place which one this was. His thoughts were interrupted by the student appearing to make eye contact with him. He was a bit surprised. Was what they were doing making him visible?

Once again he got no time to think about it, the silence broken. 

“Come sit with us spirit.” 

Amami glanced at the empty seat, finally realizing it was meant for him. He carefully pulled the chair out and sat down, barely registering Ouma mumbling. 

“He has a name you know...”


	11. Unexpected Assistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two chapters in a day? Amazing :0

Ouma decided on his way back to school that a quick trip to Kiyo’s lab wouldn’t do any harm. In fact, he was sure there’d be something in there that’ll be helpful. In his view, Kiyo was into so many freaky things that some information about ghosts would be a piece of cake to find. If only there were an Ultimate Medium or an Ultimate Occultist. Oh well, he’ll work with what he’s got. 

He was mildly surprised not to see Amami wandering around aimlessly as usual. Maybe ghosts can sleep after all? He couldn’t remember being told that they couldn’t so it was an option. Then again the school is so large maybe the ghost in question was simply in another part of the building altogether. No time to think too much about it. 

He slid open the door to the anthropologist’s lab and began to browse for anything that seemed promising. Soon he came to the realization that the titles of the books and the artifacts on display meant nothing to him, so he began to flip through whatever he could reach for clues. However, the contents didn’t make all that much sense either. All of these rituals and ceremonies flew over his head and he couldn’t figure out the purpose of any of them. 

He almost missed the sound of the door sliding open a second time. 

“How many times must I tell you not to mess with my things?” Great, of all the people to catch him snooping around, it had to be the guy whose lab he casually broke into. Ouma somehow decided the best course of action would be to face Kiyo with a shit eating grin. “What? I’m just looking around~!”

Kiyo didn’t seem to like his answer. Perhaps it was the delivery that was the problem. Maybe both. To be honest he didn’t particularly care. Ouma hummed when Kiyo spoke up again. “What, if anything, are you looking for?” 

Ouma grinned. “Aw does Kiyo-chan wanna help that badly? I’m flattered!” 

“Not particularly, but the sooner you find what you’re searching for, the sooner you’ll stop rummaging through my things…”

“So mean! I’m only looking for ghost stuff. Y’know, like how to make a ghost remember things and whatever. Just some fun research.” 

Kiyo’s eyebrow raised doubtfully. “That sounds too specific for a mere interest search... I suppose you too find interest in the presence lurking here? I have been meaning to commune with it myself...” 

Ouma hid all traces of his shock beneath a neutral smile. Could Kiyo see Amami too? Or was it that he could only tell that he’s here? He is always mumbling about the afterlife and such anyway, so maybe he has some sort of connection to ghosts. “So does that mean you wanna look with me?” 

The anthropologist laughed quietly at that. “You truly believe I have not prepared to do something like this?” With that, he folded a navy tablecloth over his arm and took a half armful of candles. “I already have a location decided. Come, join me in a seance.”

If he had to admit one thing, it was that he wasn’t exactly expecting to be doing this with his day. His plan was to read up on some things and leave to figure the rest out on his own. Instead, fate seems to have decided he’d be spending the afternoon following Kiyo up to a room with nothing but a table and a couple chairs for some kind of seance. Maybe this was the easier way, but still, Kiyo managed to give him the creeps anyway. 

When the tablecloth was laid across the table, he noted the intricate pattern stitched into it. “What’s with the embroidery project?” Kiyo merely sighed, working on lighting the candles. “It’s the magic circle we need to call the spirit to us. People were less than pleased that I continuously drew on their furniture, so I had this made in its stead.”

He sat in one of the chairs, subtly making sure the empty one was between him and Kiyo. He’d apologize to Amami later for that. To his surprise, Kiyo was mumbling in a steady rhythm under his breath. When he listened closer, it turned out to be a song that he couldn’t understand. Is this really how he plans to summon Amami? Geez, he could barely hear him from a few feet away how is this supposed to work?

Since he wasn’t told to do anything, he simply sat in silence, watching for his otherworldly friend to appear. After a few minutes, he felt like nothing would happen and was tempted to leave, but Kiyo looked up. Turning his head ever so slightly, he figured out that he was making eye contact with Amami. So it worked after all? Nice.

He sighed in mild annoyance at the way Kiyo chose to address him. “Come sit with us spirit.”

Before he had a chance to stop himself he mumbled irritably while Amami sat down. 

“He has a name you know…”


	12. Who Said A Ouija Board Is Necessary?

The table was quiet for a long time. It seemed as if no one was sure what to say now that they had arrived at this point. Ouma had things to question but was certain he’d get very few answers. Kiyo wanted to know everything he could but was too restrained to unleash his enthusiasm. Amami, on the other hand, had no idea what he was doing here or why this was taking place. 

Ouma decided to get the ball rolling himself. How? By lightly kicking Kiyo’s shin to get him to start doing whatever it was he was thinking about. Despite earning a brief yet venomous glare, it seemed to be enough to spur him into action. “Tell us spirit, what name do you go by?”

The supreme leader almost facepalmed but managed to restrain himself. Way to get things started Kiyo. Now Amami looks even more uncomfortable than he did seconds earlier! “My name is Rantaro Amami...” 

“How old are you?”

“Um... I’d like to say between 16 and 18, but I don’t remember exactly...” 

Ouma sighed a little. He’s watched videos of people trying to talk to ghosts, but this has got to be one of the worst “interviews” he’s ever seen. To him it seemed like Kiyo was ready to do this, but when the time actually came every plan he had went out the window. To a degree, it was almost amusing. He’s never seen Kiyo lose his train of thought before. Hell, he didn’t even know if it was possible! 

His interest piqued hearing the questioning start to finally dig a little deeper. 

“Do you have any family?” 

Amami looked like he was still somewhat struggling to remember, but Ouma knew that he had an answer. It was clear in his eyes that it was on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes... Sisters...”

Kiyo nodded with an almost pensive look. “Sisters... I see. How many and are they still among the living?”

“I think roughly a dozen and...I’m not sure...”

Kiyo then leaned forward, a curious if not somewhat alarming look in his eye. Ouma grew a little uneasy seeing that look. One could never be sure what would happen when he made that face, and he was a little worried for Amami’s mental state. He didn’t exactly know what a real-life distressed ghost could do, and to be honest he didn’t exactly want this to be the way he died either. However, he stayed in his seat with a relaxed posture, not wanting anyone to see he was worried in the slightest. 

“Tell me Rantaro Amami... How did you die?”

Ouch, talk about digging deep. 

Amami seemed to laugh awkwardly but still somewhat take it in stride. “If I have to answer honestly, I can’t remember at all. Kind of a personal question don’t you think?”

Kiyo merely shrugged. “Perhaps, but if we are attempting to unravel a mystery, a little prying is necessary.”

Ouma could almost hear records screeching to a halt. Did Kiyo say “we”? No. Absolutely not. He would NOT be teaming up with asparagus to figure this mystery out! He already had dibs on it! He wasn’t gonna hand over any of this endeavor to Kiyo, he was doing fine on his own! He decided to hold his tongue at least for now, seeing that there was no reason to complain. Besides, they could even get somewhere here. Not that he’ll say it, lest it becomes an unintentional invitation for Kiyo to join in. 

Amami merely shrugged and relented. “I guess that’s fair.”

Kiyo hummed. “Now then, do you remember any of the circumstances surrounding your death?”

“I can’t say I do but...I’ll try...” 

Ouma subconsciously fiddled with the crystal around his neck and leaned back. He watched Amami furrow his brow in an attempt to draw out the lost memories. Frankly, he had no way of telling how it’d go but... the mystery of it was enticing, exciting even. 

No one moved for what felt like years. In reality, it was probably a couple of minutes at best. The anticipation was too much for the two humans while the ghost tried his hardest to focus. 

In those few minutes, Kiyo, Amami, the table, it all melted away into what can only be described as a physical manifestation of the void itself.


	13. Goodnight sun, goodnight moon

The floor is hard. It’s hard, smooth, and hot. It’s the kind of floor that makes one wonder if it was really a piece of freshly blown glass. Under his fingers there were cracks. Some felt as thin as hairs, but every now and then there was a fracture that felt like a miniature cavern opened up to swallow ants whole. 

Eyes are open. There was an explosion of color. From this position, the colors that take center stage are orange and red. Red... Red forming small oceans in the tiles, flowing off into rivers in the cracks. Orange... Like a thousand paper lanterns fell over and made a beautiful yet uncontrolled bonfire in a deserted field. Perhaps the brown is worth noting too. Brown uniforms of friends and classmates. Right now they looked like Ziploc bags full of dirt covered in strawberry jelly. 

Thoughts were blending together into a smoothie. Nothing before him seemed real. Who are these kids in black again? Why are they here with weapons? No... Why are they all climbing out the window? He’s somewhat sure the drop is too long to be safe. Right? How high is this room again? Too high to survive probably... Even still, he feels like he doesn’t want to stop them from trying. Why? It feels cruel to let them fall to a likely death... 

A few attempts later he’s on his feet. He feels like an ant, but also a skyscraper. He’s not tall or short in this moment. It’s impossible when the world around him shifts and curls like the sea. The sea... It’d be a nice time to be on a boat right now. Away from all this chaos, all the smells of destruction and death. If he thinks hard enough he could imagine the saltiness of the blood around him was the saltiness of the sea air. 

He’s moving. His mind still tries to picture the sea. It’s difficult, but he can almost imagine the puddles he steps in are puddles in the rain, not puddles of his peers’ lifeblood. Lifeblood? Would death-blood be a more appropriate term now? No, it’s not blood. Well, it is, but right now it’s a small puddle of rainwater. If he jumped in one, it’d splash and make the sidewalk even wetter than it was from the initial downpour. 

Maybe he could write a book with all of these analogies. He knows deep down that he won’t, but the thought is enough to amuse him momentarily. 

Forward. Continue to move forward. That’s all he knows how to do. Left foot. Right foot. Moving is living. Living is freedom. Living is defiance. Defiance against what? He’s not sure, but whatever it is, he has a point to prove. Now that he can think on it, he can’t remember what that point is either. A hand is against his head, checking for a leaky brain, for a source of all his spilling thoughts. The hand lowers, and eyes descend to inspect it. No leaky thoughts. Just more rainwater. 

The red rain is everywhere. He almost feels like he’s walking through the aftermath of a massive storm. His feet still carry him forward. He’s lost track of his destination. He can’t remember if he had one in the first place. He wants to find a teacher, maybe security, any adult. In times of doubt, adults tended to have ideas about what to do. At least, in his experience, that’s how things tended to be. Then again it didn’t rain so much the way things usually are. 

There are voices in a room nearby. Is that a shelter from the storm? His feet continue to move on their own, moving closer. Closer. The light feels closer. The light? The sun probably. He’d like to see the sun. The storm just needs to pass first. His hand reaches for the door. The light is almost all encompassing now. 

The wind picks up. The door flies off the frame. There’s a lot of fire. The light is gone. It feels like the rug was pulled out from under him. He’s wet now. He’s in a big puddle now. He doesn’t put together that he’s making the puddle for a long time. He can see someone in there playing pretend. He wants to join, but she feels dangerous. He stays in his puddle. 

The sun’s setting. He feels like it’s time to go to bed. He feels like a bag of rocks. He continues to rest in his puddle. He can hear footsteps. Whatever they need can wait.

It’s time for a nap... 

The world melts into the void once again.


End file.
